


he looks so pretty like a devil

by fireflyslove



Series: You (Good Omens) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, D/s undertones, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 11:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyslove/pseuds/fireflyslove
Summary: Uhhhh Crowley eats Aziraphale out against a wall except it's second person POV and you're AziraphaleorI have no idea what this is?





	he looks so pretty like a devil

**Author's Note:**

> Guys what the fuck is this?
> 
> Title from Cruel Summer-Taylor Swift. (aka I can't stop listening to Lover)

You run your hands through his thick red hair, the strands tangling around your fingers. His breath shudders as you tug just the slightest bit. A smirk crosses your face. 

“Angel,” Crowley says, so low a human wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

“Yes, my dear?” you ask.

“Kiss me?” he asks. 

You oblige him, he’s always so good for you, you couldn’t deny him anything. You’ve kissed your fair share of beings across the millennia, most of them immediately forgettable, but Crowley’s like a fine wine. He tastes like the fine red wine you were drinking, undershot with sulfur and just a  _ hint _ of apple. You wonder absently if that’s intentional. 

He’s got you pressed with your back to the wall, but then, you goaded him into this. When you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth, his knees wobble for just a moment, and he has to brace his weight against the wall. You move a hand to the front of his shirt and flip your positions until you’re the one pushing him into the wall, a thigh braced between his. Crowley’s arousal is evident against the skin of your thigh, even through the thick fabric of your trousers. 

Just a little pressure applied and he’s whimpering, the dulcet sound sends a fizz of pleasure up your spine, and your control slips, just a little. Your tongue has kept his interested, but you’re interested in branching out. You slide your lips from his, across his cheek, down his jawbone, over the thin skin of his throat until you reach his pulse point. These bodies aren’t human, of course, but they sure react like it. His heart is rabbiting, the jump and tension of his vein under your lips is like a heady liquor, and surely God will understand if you bite just a  _ little _ . She designed him like this after all.

“Angel,” Crowley gasps again, his voice high and breathy. “Please.”

“Oh, my darling,” you say. “You do so please me.”

Crowley whines, and his hands, previously fisted in your coat, push at your lapels. You let him push your coat, then your waistcoat off, tossed to the far reaches of the room. Somehow, he’s got you both turned around so your back is to the wall again, and then he’s sinking to his knees.

This is not your first time doing this, not even together, but it’s still new enough between the two of you that you feel just a twinge of unease at the implications of a demon going to his knees for you. You run a hand through his hair, just to reassure yourself. 

His eyes, luminous in the dimly lit hallway look adoringly up at you as his hands reach for the buttons of your flies. 

“So beautiful,” you murmur, and yes, that’s a blush creeping up Crowley’s cheeks. 

He gets his hand in your trousers, and makes a surprised noise. 

“Different kind of effort, today, angel?” he asks.

You hadn’t even put that much thought into it, but these trousers just happened to fit better without a cock. You say as much and the demon at your feet laughs. 

“‘S fine with me,” Crowley says. “Just means I’ve gotta make a few adjustments.” He snaps his fingers, and suddenly you’re naked from the waist down, and his shirt has disappeared.

You know from experience that your beloved clothes are folded neatly on a chair beside the bed in your room, and you shoot him a smile. 

He returns the smile with a cocky grin, and puts a hand around the back of one of your plush thighs, easing it over his shoulder. You take the hint, and a second later, he’s got both your legs slung over his shoulders, his hands under your ass as he braces your weight.

Crowley’s forehead is pressed to your lower stomach, and you run an encouraging hand through his hair.

“So good for me,” you say. 

You can hear the objection forming in Crowley’s mouth, and forestall it by tugging on his hair just a little, pushing down just a tad. 

Crowley’s not-quite human tongue flicks out, making just the briefest contact with your clit before he’s licking in deep, tracing the shapes of alphabets long lost to human eyes into your intimate flesh. One of his hands slips from the back of your thigh to trace your seam, spreading the wetness up. A low moan escapes your mouth, and your fingers tighten in Crowley’s hair.

He pulls back just for a second, “Angel,” he says, voice rough and breathless.

“Darling,” you reply.

His long, slender fingers push into you while he looks up at you, and your eyes shut involuntarily as two of them twist just  _ so _ . His tongue gets back to business, and you swear you feel just a hint of serpentine fangs, his own control slipping just a bit. 

A low pressure builds at the base of your spine, and your ankles, crossed behind his head, tighten, your heels practically clicking together.

A stream of nonsense flows from your mouth  _ Good _ and  _ Crowley _ and  _ love _ interspersed with profanity in sixteen languages.

He slides a third finger into you, your slick practically running down his wrist, and his fingers find just the right spot inside and  _ press _ .

You come, screaming, fingers buried in his hair, his name on your tongue.

The world seems to white out for just a moment, and then you’re back. Crowley has eased you down so your legs are on the floor, but he’s still supporting most of your weight. 

“Crowley,” you say. “You’re such a gift.” 

He blushes, but by this point, he’s clocked that it’s futile to make objections. “Love you,” he mutters, and you’re overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him. 

You’ve never been good at denying yourself anything, so you kiss him, tasting yourself in his mouth. 

Your hand slips between your bodies, into his trousers. He gasps into your mouth as your hand wraps around his cock, giving it a firm pull. 

Your lips latch onto his neck, pulling a bruise to the surface as his hands clutch at your back. He’s been close to the edge since before you lost your pants, and it doesn’t take long to bring him to the edge. You lean back just a bit, you do so love to see his face when he comes.

“Crowley,” you say. 

He looks at you, eyes wide and guileless, hair in disarray. His mouth is open on a gasp that might be your name. 

“I love you,” you say, and then he’s coming in your hand. 

-

Hours later you’re both in bed, his head pillowed on your chest while he sleeps. You’re reading, well you’re looking at a book, and running your fingers through his hair. 

You’re glad the world didn’t end. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found anywhere you are @fireflyslove


End file.
